We Hardly Knew Ye, Twenties!

So...if 40 is the new 20, does that make 30 the new 10? And if so, what the hell does that even mean?

Hopefully, no more hair in strange places.

A brief post in honor of the big 3-0. Funny...every time I see the age with dashed digits, it's like I'm looking at a scoreboard and not sure who's playing. I just know that it's a shutout.

Anyway, 12 things I'd like to do in the next decade:

1. Muster up the nerve to give up on or walk out of movies when they suck.
2. Listen to music that's happier, yet still cool. (Any suggestions would be helpful, kids.)
3. Take my first piano lesson.
4. Get back to fencing. (That's swordfighting, kids. Not moving stolen goods.)
5. Do a bit of boxing.
6. Fake my own death. (Because, really, how cool would that be.)
7. Get to Italy. ASAP. (Perhaps as corollary to #6.)
8. Cut Grant Morrison some slack. (Because he deserves it.)
9. Write my own book about James Bond if I see one more volume where any instances of engaging historical acumen are UTTERLY RUINED by masturbatory fanboy soapboxing and proofing/editing worthy of a 9-year-old's fanzine.
10. Take more photos. Also, not be such a dick on those rare occasions when people actually want to take my picture.
11. Commit more in the way of foolish yet ultimately harmless acts.
12. Answer the question.

Read: Batman and Son, by Grant Morrison, Andy Kubert, & Jesse Delperdang
Watch: Touchez pas au grisbi (dir. Jacques Becker, 1954)
Listen to: The Book and the Canal, by Calexico